70. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Z oey
I had high hopes and all the courage in the world earlier today when I was sitting on the hard stone bench in the arena. Now, though, I have an entirely different feeling. I’m scared. All I can think about is that everyone will be looking at me—judging me.
I try to ground myself in the moment by breathing and focusing on my five senses. We’re all in the sanctuary, with the karaoke set-up on the dais in front. Stryker and Dax are having far too much fun singing gladiator songs that are about as interesting as “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” except they all seem to be about sex. I could live forever without ever again hearing the words “tight xyzca ” no matter what the context.
But their sheer exuberance is contagious, and their smiles are so wide.
“Tell me again why we need these microphones?” Dax’s voice booms as he asks Callista between songs.
His mate Dahlia replies, “Because it wouldn’t be karaoke without it, mate. Have fun with it. Use it as a prop!”
Oh my, she shouldn’t have said that. Not to the two males in the group with no filters. The two humongous grown males are now playing with the phallic-shaped equipment, crossing them like swords, and of course, mimicking lewd acts.
I’m sure I’m blushing ten shades of red, but when I look around, I see everyone is laughing hysterically and having a good time.
Why can’t you have fun ? I scold myself. It’s lewd, but it’s not breaking any laws. And really, is it even breaking any moral code? Get over yourself. Obviously, my earth-shattering internal announcement earlier today that “I am over it” was a little premature and unrealistic. This is going to take a lot more work.
After that stern talking to, I relax and laugh at their antics, too.
“Someone, anyone,” Callista asks the group, her voice plaintive. “Could someone else break up this two stooges act?”
As if they were waiting for this request, Willa and Bayne step up on either side with honest-to-goodness lassos and neatly throw a rope around each male. The males are so stunned they don’t put up any resistance when they’re pulled away amidst roars of laughter and cheers for the shapeshifter rodeo team.
Wrage and Elyse take the floor. To hear them tell it, they fell in love through their singing when we were all on planet Paragon last year for Blessed Peace Day. They step up and take the mics. They are a beautiful couple and are wearing matching outfits with baby blue satin piping on black. Her dress has the piping on the neckline and hem. His black leather has blue stitching. Looks like they went all out to impress us at our little karaoke fest.
They sing a slow love song that brings tears to my eyes as I observe the sheer depth of their feelings for each other played out on stage for all to see. He’s a tall Wryth’N with blueish skin, black horns, and a fearsome face. Except when he looks at his mate and gets a melty, loving look that screams of how precious she is to him. The Wryth’N and the brown-haired human look like they belong together. It’s heartwarming.
If my father were here, I know he’d have some choice words to say. But he’s not. He’s not here, and he doesn’t have to live in my head anymore. I close my eyes for a moment and picture pushing him out the door of my mind and slamming it closed. I open my eyes and savor the peace that comes without his voice echoing in my head.
As their song ends, I take a deep breath and convince myself I’ll go next. One more song and I’m going to march up to that stage and sing.
While Elyse and Wrage sing one more love song—that seems to be the only thing in their repertoire—I get myself ready. I breathe in through my nose, grounding myself in Steele’s familiar scent. We both took showers after we returned from the arena. He smells like soap and Steele. It’s spicy and alluring and always calms me because if I smell his scent, then I know he’s nearby.
I feel my feet on the floor and pay attention to my tongue in my mouth and try to be fully in this moment.
It doesn’t matter what you sound like, I remind myself. It’s an act of courage. A right of passage. A message to your brain that you can do anything. The music doesn’t matter. The singing doesn’t matter. It’s about doing the thing you fear. You can do this Zoey!
On that thought, I reach over, kiss Steele’s warm, silver cheek, and walk to Callista who is running the sound. I write my request on a slip of paper, just like she instructed us, and wait while she scours some database and comes up with the tune.
Celine Dion’s song “Because You Loved Me” plays, with the words on a vid screen in some language I can’t read.
“It’s not English,” I say after the words start floating across the screen and I’ve missed my cue.
“Sorry! I forgot to switch it from Halckon! Just a second,” she says.
I haven’t even started and this little mistake has me ready to bolt from the stage. But while she’s changing the translation language, I inspect the crowd. They’re laughing and joking and not at all upset that they have to wait for my song to start. How could they be disturbed by me? They just sat through five interminable drinking songs sung by Dax and Stryker. I can do this! No one will care if I sing badly.
“Okay, here we go,” Callista says.
Everyone quiets down to pay attention to me. They all have looks of acceptance and encouragement on their faces. This feeling is new. I don’t speak up much onboard the ship even though we’ve been together for two years. I tamp down my fears and before the lyrics show up on the screen, I look at Steele with all the love in my heart and say, “I dedicate this song to my beloved mate, Steele.”
With that, I dive into the music. It’s the most loving song I could think of as it enumerates all the things my lover did for me: supporting, helping me speak up for myself, seeing the best in me, and more. I knew the song would say just what I wanted to say to Steele, but as I sing the lyrics, I realize every single word is true. I’ve lived through the last two years because he loved me.
I’m so immersed in the song and the look in Steele’s gorgeous blue eyes, that I forget to be afraid. By the second stanza, I’m putting even more feeling into my words, and somehow, as the song progresses, I make my way off the little stage, wend my way through the pews with my microphone in hand, and end the song standing next to him, tears of love shining in my eyes.
He stands up, places his palms on my cheeks, and kisses me in front of everyone—something I wouldn’t have been comfortable with two days ago. Now I’m just proud.
“Amazing, Zoey. I didn’t know you could sing. And that song! It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. What a great Blessed Peace Day present. I’ll never forget it.” His voice is deep and rich and sincere as he gazes at me with so much love in his expression.
I’m on a dreamy cloud while everyone in the room continues to clap, well the women are clapping. The males are hooting and hollering and stomping. Several of the guys stand and thump their fists on their chests as they bow their heads to me. The highest compliment a gladiator can give someone. It’s usually reserved only for other gladiators.
Perhaps they all know this took as much courage as if I’d entered the arena to battle a huge, armed opponent.
When Dax and Stryker take the stage for another round of bawdy drinking songs and all the attention is removed from Steele and me, I take a moment to breathe.
Steele is still looking at me with love in his eyes, his lips tipped upward indulgently.
“I had no idea,” he says. “Why did you keep it hidden?”
“Hidden?”
“All of it hidden,” he pauses, his eyes flicking back and forth across my face.
“All of it?” Is he talking about my ability to sing? I’m still not sure I have the ability, but I certainly had the courage.
“How much you love me,” his voice is almost too soft to hear, but I hear every word.
Every organ in my body feels as if it shuts down. I don’t move—no blinking or swallowing or even breathing for a moment. My beloved didn’t know how much I love him? We’ve been together two years, and he didn’t know?
It feels like a fist is squeezing my heart tighter and tighter. I’ve been with the wonderful male for two years and spoken the words, I know I have. Somehow, though, he didn’t know how much I love him?
Sliding my fingers up his cheek and into his hair, I pull him closer and ask, “I didn’t tell you, Steele? You didn’t know I think you hung the very moon in the sky?” I grab his hands and bring them to my mouth to kiss each knuckle.
“I’m telling you now, my love, my mate. Do you want me to sing you another song?”
He chuckles and shakes his head, breaking the serious moment.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” he changes the subject. “I didn’t know you had this talent. I’m so proud of you.”
My organs are working. I’m breathing and blinking, but inside, my heart is clenching that I haven’t shown enough love to my wonderful male.
I pull it together, lighten my tone, and answer, “I don’t think it’s talent. I only got up to sing to show myself I could do it. It was never about impressing anybody. It was just to prove to myself I could do something hard, something I didn’t think I could do.”
“Well, you succeeded, my love.”
I force myself to move on. That’s what this trip to Fairea is doing. It’s allowing us to put the past in our rearview mirror.
Without even asking, he lifts me and sets me on his lap, his arms circling my waist. He’s so tall it’s comfortable to lay my head on his pec and watch the show.
I’m so sensitized to him. I feel his heat, hear his breathing, and am aware of his muscular thighs under me. His cock is like a steel bar pressing against the crack of my ass.
My sunburn is better. There’s no reason not to have sex tonight. It couldn’t be more perfect. He won his competition earlier today, even though he declared it a tie. I feel like I’m on top of the world because I sang in front of the entire group. Not only that, but I just declared my love for him to everyone.
I realize I’ve spent the last two years pushing down my feelings of attraction for my mate. I don’t want to do that anymore. I allow myself to pay attention to them, enjoy them.
Trying to be subtle, I wiggle back against his cock, enjoying the feel of him ramrod stiff against me. Steele, my mate, wants his wife. And why shouldn’t he? We’re mated—married—and we love each other. There’s nothing wrong with two married people wanting to have sex with each other.
In fact, even my father would agree with me that sex is for married couples. Well, being married to an alien would undoubtedly negate his approval. But he is still behind the closed door, so I can’t hear his objections.
Paying attention to Steele’s warm arms pressing against my midriff, I place my hands on his, enjoying the feeling of their strength, the callouses on his palms. Callouses from fighting for the welfare of everyone on board.
I move his hands to my thighs, wondering if this invitation is clear enough. Of course not. Steele’s been married to me for two years. How could he know that for the first time since we mated I want him to touch me in public?
I slowly tug my skirt up, an inch at a time, sliding the silky fabric between his skin and mine until his hands are on my naked flesh about halfway up my thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath, then huffs it out again.
I guess I don’t need to give him any more hints. He’s a male. Everything in his genetics is built around the perpetuation of the species. His palms whisper up and down my thighs. His movements are slow, languorous, nothing that would call attention. I may have just sung in front of the entire group and bared my thighs in public, but I’m still Zoey after all.
My pulse quickens and my breath comes in little pants as I feel his soft caress. He does nothing bold, just the subtlest movement from knees to mid-thigh, as his head dips, his mouth at my ear. There’s a moment where he pauses, not speaking, just breathing. His breath is warm as it wafts across my cheek. Goosebumps flare on my neck and throat.
“You want my touch, little Zoey?” His palms slide higher, just an inch. Nothing lewd, just a hint at what he’d like to be doing. “Are you thinking of what we could do back in our little cottage?”
I nod. It’s a little thing, barely a movement, but it gives him the green light to keep talking, weaving his spell.
“Do you know how beautiful you are, mate? How lovely your skin is? How much, even after two annums , it thrills me to see our skin side by side? Yours pale, mine silver. It delights me, Love.”
His words, hot and passionate in my ear, thrill me, too. And his thumbs, now making lazy figure eights as they boldly creep just a bit higher, create a burst of fire that licks from where they are to where I’d like them to be.
“Rest your ankles on the outside of my calves,” he says, his voice deep and commanding. It’s a small request, but after I’ve opened myself to him this little bit, he widens his legs, which exposes me a bit more.
“I just wanted to catch one whiff of your scent, Zoey,” he croons softly in my ear as he snaps his legs together. “But it’s just for me. I don’t want everyone in the room to know how much my mate desires me. Tell me. Tell me with your words how much you want me, Zoey. I need to hear.”
His hands have returned to mid-thigh as I tip my head to speak to him.
“Sometimes I want you so much I ache, Steele. If you keep doing what you’re doing, I’m going to spontaneously combust. Oh yes, I want you.”
He removes his hands from my thighs, pulls my dress down, and crosses his arms around my midriff again. Has he stopped our little teasing game? Sadness bolts through me.
But my mate is sly. Instead of keeping his arms chastely around my waist like he’s done a hundred times since we’ve been together, he inches them up until they’re right underneath my breasts. My moment of disappointment dissolves with the surge of heat suffusing my body.
His forearms are innocently supporting my breasts until they creep higher and begin to nudge the undersides. He inclines forward, feigning supreme interest in the Dax and Stryker Show. All the while, he’s teasing me slow and steady.
When I wiggle my bottom, trying to curb the flare of arousal licking through me, he hisses. My squirming to decrease my arousal only served to increase his.
“I might have to punish you for teasing your male in public,” he threatens.
A bolt of strong and violent need shoots through me from core to nipples and back again. My pulse beats insistently between my legs. Why did his threat to punish me turn me on like a flame—so hot and immediate?
I just sang in front of people for the first time in my life. I’m swimming in courage. I twist my head to taunt, “I’d like to see you try.”
After placing my hand on the outside of his thigh, I slowly slide it up. I’m so enthralled I’m not breathing. I don’t think he is either. We’re at the end of the pew. No one is on our right. My hand slides even higher as it rounds his hip, until I’m reaching behind him to clutch his perfect ass.
A sibilant hiss escapes his lips, and to hide it, he nips the cords of my neck. I’m playing with fire, because I don’t think I’ve ever felt this aroused before, certainly never in public. I can’t keep my hips from dancing a little as I wiggle against him, wishing his cock was lying along his thigh rather than tucked against his belly. If it was tucked differently, I’d be hard-pressed not to move over and ride it.
“If you don’t stop, I think the Steele and Zoey show is going to become much more amusing than the Dax and Stryker show,” he warns through clenched teeth.
Forcing myself to stop wiggling, I remove my hand from his magnificent ass and then slip off his lap entirely. I feel like a four-year-old because I can’t hide my irritated pout.
“If it wouldn’t be rude, we’d leave right this moment, Zoey. As it is, I want you to picture exactly what you want your mate to do to you when we get home. And you’re going to tell me.”
My mouth pops open as I suck in a surprised breath. My core is clenching with need and my clit is quivering. The tips of my breasts are hard enough to be seen from across the room, and since all these aliens have amazing olfactory abilities, I imagine there’s no hiding my aroused scent.
All of that moves to the back burner of my mind as I focus on what Steele asked. I’m paging through a mental album of all the things I want my mate to do to me when we get to our cabin.
I don’t know how I’ll find the nerve to tell him what I want.
That’s wrong. I do know. I just sang in front of all my friends. Telling the male who loves me that I want him to touch me should be a walk in the park.
Right in the middle of “The Big-Tittied Wench from Krillon” a loud peal of thunder crashes outside. The metal roof sings its own song as it’s pelted with rain.
Various curse words bubble up from everyone in the room. The sanctuary is a standalone building with no covered walkways to any other buildings. We can all either wait here until the rain stops, or we can get soaked running to our rooms.
“We can make our escape,” Steele says, his voice tempting as honey.
I can’t see past the picture of us getting plastered wet.
“I’ll keep you warm, Love. And you’ll look so beautiful. The rain and your wet dress will prick your nipples and I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
I want to ask, “Who are you and what have you done with Steele,” but I know what’s happened. It’s because I’ve changed. He’s no longer treating me like breakable glass and I’m so glad.
“When do I answer your question?” I whisper as the lights flicker out, bathing the room in darkness.
He pauses, perhaps not remembering his own question.
“When do I tell you all the things I’ve fantasized about doing with my mate?”
I shouldn’t be surprised when he unerringly finds my nipples in the pitch black and plucks them hard and swift, making my core clench in desire.
“You’re going to keep adding to the list of things you want your silver mate to do to you as we run back to our cottage. Then you’re going to tell me everything.”
He slides his palm from below my knee, under my dress, and up my thigh. My panties prove no barrier to his questing fingers. His breath is hot as a bellows when he exhales against my neck as his fingers travel the length of my slit.
“You’re drenched, my Zoey. Drenched for me.”
One finger slips through my folds and slides into me with no resistance. I doubt anyone heard my startled, “Oh.” They’re all discussing whether to stay and wait out the storm or to run back to their rooms.
“Open wider,” he insists as his finger shuttles in and out, working me.
As soon as I oblige, his thumb whispers across my clit. I usually hold back when we get this far, staying demure and forcing myself not to enjoy it. Not right now. I press against him, clenching my ass against his thighs as I rise to meet his hand.
“Steele, will you…” I was being so bold, but asking for what I want suddenly becomes too difficult.
“Zoey, I’ll do anything you want. Just tell me, or show me, or even give me a hint. I live to make you happy in every way.”
“Let’s get wet,” I say as I stand and grab his hand. Lifting on my toes, I whisper into his ear, “Besides, I’m drenched already.”